


Cinnamon

by WinglessCrows



Series: Through the Eyes of a Cook [40]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Hurt/Comfort, Kitchen Accidents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-05-27 08:03:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15020234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinglessCrows/pseuds/WinglessCrows
Summary: "Sanji loves to cook. Truly. It's the best thing he knows of and if he had to choose one thing to do for the rest of his life, cooking would be the choice. But there are times when Sanji would honestly love to spend a day away from the kitchen."Luffy gets hurt in the kitchen and Sanji doesn't take it well





	Cinnamon

**Author's Note:**

> There's a Shokugeki no Soma reference in here

Sanji loves to cook. Truly. It's the best thing he knows of and if he had to choose one thing to do for the rest of his life, cooking would be the choice. But there are times when Sanji would honestly love to spend a day away from the kitchen. It's not like he suddenly hates cooking or gets tired of it, but sometimes Sanji feels like he just hit a wall. He'll be staring at the fridge without knowing what to do with today's breakfast, and he'll just be stuck in the position for much longer than could be considered normal. He'll be trying to decide on a dish, but everything just seems to have disappeared from his mind and though he could probably whip together a decent meal in his sleep, on these days, it is like he isn't even a chef. And it is the worst feeling ever, because Sanji loves his job, but when the fire dies out momentarily, he feels empty.

And yet, Sanji would much rather experience the emptiness than relive the fear that had once been present in his mind and hindered his job.

It had been a normal day, a quiet day actually, and the quiet had not sat well with Luffy. Quiet meant boring, and that was a no-no. So Luffy came to the kitchen, and before Sanji could tell him off for wanting snacks when Sanji had  _literally_ just given him some, Luffy declared that he wanted to help prepare dinner. Luffy had helped out a few times before, and as long as Sanji was in the kitchen, he didn't mind Luffy trying a few things out. Luffy usually came to the kitchen when the days were especially hot. Though he didn't have fur like Chopper, it seemed that prolonged heat just didn't do well with him. Sanji suspected that his devil fruit was to blame.

So Sanji let Luffy help. He never let his captain do things like cutting vegetables or season food, because that was relatively boring. No, Sanji was a good crew mate and let Luffy choose what he wanted to put in the dishes (Sanji gave him options of course), he let Luffy taste test (any excuse to eat was Luffy's favorite thing) and mix things together, because there was something innocently fun about stirring a pot.

It was always nice to spend some time with Luffy, because one couldn't help but feel happy in his presence. His easy smile and uplifting laughter was contagious and even if Sanji wasn't having a bad day, he'd still feel immensely happy with his captain. Of course, even in the most peaceful of scenarios, Luffy was a trouble magnet, and while disasters never happened when Sanji was the one in the kitchen, Luffy could easily throw that record out the window.

Luffy made a winching sort of noise and there was a clang when a spatula fell to the floor. Sanji was immediately by Luffy's side to asses the damage. Sanji blamed himself for not having paid attention to what Luffy had been doing, but having suffered multiple of the same injuries, he knew what to do. Even if Sanji's mind was a complete mess at the moment, his body moved by itself and soon Luffy's hand was submersed in cold water. The burn didn't look all too bad, but Sanji knew that it always felt much worse than it looked.

However, after the accident had happened, Luffy didn't look all too concerned. Rather, he was smiling again, and Sanji wondered why.

"Does it hurt?" Sanji asked, still holding Luffy's hand under water.

"Not really," Luffy smiled, "I've tried worse."

Luffy didn't even need to gesture to his scar for Sanji to understand, but this time Luffy's smile didn't reach Sanji. The chef just turned his attention back to the running of the water and completely forgot the food that he was supposed to finish making.

After ten minutes of Luffy just having his hand cooled down, Sanji sent him to Chopper, and looked at the frying pan which had caused the mess to begin with. Luffy had been cooking bacon. A very simple job, but Luffy liked it, because bacon smelled so wonderful when you cooked it and Sanji had made sure to have enough for Luffy to snack on as well. But of course the heating had been turned up just a tad bit too much and Luffy had been a little too close. Accidents happen and no one was really to blame for this one. And no harm had been done. Sanji had dealt with the burn before sending Luffy off to their very experienced and adept doctor. Yeah... no harm had been done to Luffy. Though Sanji's mentality was an entirely different matter.

In all his life, Sanji had very rarely been the cause of a kitchen accident. Even when he had been a novice chef, things had rarely gone wrong, but on the few occasions that it had happened, the one to suffer the consequences had always been Sanji. He had been the one to get a burn or a scar, some of which were still visible on his hands, and that had been fine. Sanji didn't mind getting hurt. But for Sanji, cooking was all about making other people happy, and for the first time in his life, someone had gotten in hurt in his kitchen.

Sanji slowly began putting things aside. He still needed to make dinner, but he didn't really feel like working with heat anymore. He decided to go for sushi. He'd already made the rice, so all he needed to do was cut the fish and make the sushi. Nothing too complicated for an experience chef of the sea. He slowly got to work, and tried not to focus too much on the fact that his hands were slightly unsteady.

No one commented on the change of dinner plans. They just complimented the food. As always. Luffy was happily eating. As always. Sanji did notice the cloth around Luffy's hand, and though the captain wasn't fazed by it in the slightest, it bothered Sanji immensely.

Cleaning was easy. It didn't involve anything dangerous. The warmest thing was the water he washed the dishes in, which had nothing on hot frying oil. Sanji mechanically cleaned the plates, kitchen utensils and whatnot without even thinking. And here's the thing. Sanji wasn't really aware of how much the accident had affected him. It had made him uneasy, yes, but how long could that last? Tomorrow morning Luffy's hand would bear no signs of having been burned and, surely, Sanji would have no problem then.

He was wrong. Forcing himself to make food the next day was painful. He didn't want anyone asking why he was feeling so weird about cooking all of a sudden, because it'd be pretty bad if the chef couldn't make food. So he kept his insecurities to himself and tried his best to act as he usually did. If asked about acting strangely, he'd blame the weather. But it wasn't his hand shaking when he picked up a knife or the hesitation in turning on the stove which had Sanji on the brink of insanity. It was the fact that such a small thing had triggered it. What would have happened if it had been anything else? Something bigger? Something permanent? Would he have broken completely?

Usually when Sanji was feeling any sort of negative emotions, he'd eat. A lot. Stress eating was a good word for it, but being in the kitchen was hard, so now that comfort was gone. Of course that just meant that he went through his cigarette pack all that faster, and Sanji knew that if he kept this up, Chopper would start interfering. He really didn't want that. He knew something was wrong, so he could fix it by himself. No need to involve other people and bother them with his problems.

Sanji went a full week with the situation only getting worse.

At this point being in the kitchen was suffocating. It was no longer the prospect of accidents that had Sanji panicked and anxious, it was the place itself. The heat which had previously been comfortable was now unbearable, the aromas which used to calm him down were sickening, and the sounds of chopping, whisking, boiling, which had all been like music to Sanji's ear were now like nails on a chalkboard. It was horrifying. And with the kitchen now being a living hell, Sanji had nowhere to run to.

Without his safe haven, Sanji's world was cold and bleak. Even on a hot day without a single cloud in the sky, Sanji would feel cold and he'd be reminded of the North. He slowly started eating less, and even when he  _was_ cooking, it was like it took all of his energy. For some reason he had to put more strength into cutting, kneading, stirring for anything to happen. By the end of the day Sanji would be so visibly worn out that someone, more often than not: Usopp, would offer to clean after dinner, and Sanji would collapse in his bed. Until one day he didn't make to his bed, he just collapsed in the kitchen.

Unlike when he'd been ill, he wasn't even conscious enough for him to hear as people hurriedly ran to his side. This time he was out cold before he even hit the floor. Yet Sanji was weirdly self aware. He knew that he was sleeping, but it was like a conscious sort of sleep where he could control his own actions and critically observe what was happening around him.

Sanji was back in the Baratie. The old Baratie he realized. This was back when it had only been him and the old geezer. Back then they were only open four days a week, because Zeff didn't want to put too much strain on Sanji... and of course he was still a trainee so all free days were spend practising and learning. It wasn't all cooking either. Zeff also taught Sanji how to fight, because the way Sanji had been fighting before hadn't been right. Not for a chef, because a chef should never use their hands to fight with. And right now, Sanji was observing as Zeff was teaching a young Sanji how to fight. It was only the two of them, and a lone waiter whom Sanji remembered had worked with them for a months time before he'd tried to kill Zeff and collect his still existent bounty. Of course, all these bounty hunters who tried this would get mercilessly beaten by the head chef and eventually the people who tried to kill or capture him were non-existent.

"Put you back into it, you lil' eggplant," Zeff said sternly, and put a hand on Sanji's back to straighten him up, "Your power doesn't only come from your legs, but from your entire body."

With Zeff supporting him, little Sanji repeated his previous actions, but this time the balance and force was much improved. Zeff ruffled his hair and asked him to do it one more time with him supporting so that he could get the feel of it before trying by himself again. Little Sanji smiled and repeated the action. Zeff then let go and little Sanji tried again. This time his balance was a little off, but on the third try he had mastered the move.

Zeff then send little Sanji off to the fridge and had him decide what they should have for lunch.

"He's a talented one," the waiter mused as he watched little Sanji run to the kitchen, and excitedly pick some things out.

"He is," Zeff agreed and looked kindly at little Sanji, something the current Sanji felt like he had taken for granted sometimes, "but it's like there is something holding him back. Like he's not trusting his own power."

"What do you mean?" The waiter asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"When he's cooking, he's very confident even though he's far from good at it. I'd even go as far as say that the only reason he is as good as he is, is because of sheer determination. However, when it comes to fighting, it's like he's constantly expecting to do wrong. To not do good enough. Which is ridiculous. I've never seen a kid with this much talent for fighting." Zeff's expression turned into that of concern, still keeping his eyes on his lil' eggplant.

The conversation never continued as little Sanji came back with a chopping board filled with the ingredients for a quiche.

The scene changed, and little dream Sanji was about a year older. This time he was sat on a chair, crying and Zeff was kneeling before him tending to his bleeding hand.

"You stupid eggplant. I taught you how to handle a knife, did I not?"

Little Sanji nodded, and tried to stop crying. When Zeff was done bandaging his hand, he ruffled his hair, something which the current Sanji now found that Zeff had done a lot when he'd been younger, and went to the spice cupboard. He came back with a cinnamon stick and gave it to little Sanji.

"Did you know that the smell of cinnamon makes you happy?" Zeff asked and little Sanji shook his head, "Take this and carry it with you until you feel better." Little Sanji took the cinnamon, and the current Sanji remembered never giving it back.

Sanji awoke in the Sick Bay. It was night, and while Chopper was in the room with him, he was fast asleep. Sanji slowly sat up and tried to clear his head of everything that had happened the past week and just focus on the Baratie. He tried to focus on everything that Zeff had taught him, everything that Zeff had given him, but it was like the memories were slowly slipping away from him. Sanji glanced at the door that separated the Sick Bay and the kitchen. He didn't know if he could do it, but he had to take the chance. Worst case scenario; he'd just faint again.

With the lights out and Sanji having no plans of actually cooking anything, it wasn't all that bad to be in the kitchen. Sanji still felt himself hesitating a bit when he walked over to the cupboard, but it wasn't anything like before. Sanji slowly looked through his spice cupboard before he found the small bag of cinnamon sticks and took one out. And as if a magic spell had been put on him, the moment the scent of cinnamon reached Sanji's nose, he relaxed.

It was like Sanji was suddenly reminded of why he loved cooking in the first place. It wasn't about making feel good and happy. It was about making them feel good and happy  _despite_  anything else. If you were having a good day, Sanji's food would make it even better, and if you were having a bad day, then the food would lift your spirits. Accidents happened. Whether that be inside the kitchen or outside, it didn't matter. In the end, when everyone was sat down and enjoying Sanji's food, weren't everyone happy then?

Sanji remembered well that every time he'd cut himself, burned himself, injured himself, Zeff would make him a meal, and he'd instantly feel better. And Sanji remembered that that was the kind of chef he'd wanted to become. Without putting the cinnamon away Sanji got changed into the chef outfit he had kept from the Baratie, and though it was the middle of the night, Sanji started cooking.


End file.
